Just Life
by PenNuser
Summary: Superhero theme A/U: They each made different choices in life, some for better and some for worse, but fate brought them together anyway.
1. Preface I: History of Sorts

**Notes**: This story was inspired heavily by the TV Show series Heroes and X-Men Evolution, but more in particular, the newer movie that came out in 2011, X-Men Evolution: First Class. The story was also inspired by the stories on the site. I see tons of these kinds of stories that base themselves solely on the "superhero" theme but only subject the story to one main character. I figure, it's about time there's a story that gives equal chance to all characters and not have just one. That way, the author _and_ the readers are both happy.

Just to let you know, they will ALL have powers. Some more than one.

**Rating, Disclaimer, Warnings:**

T; I do not own Criminal Minds; Violence, cursing, total alternate universe, grammar & spelling errors, possible OOC, POV shifts, a lot of characters, etc.

**Just Life**

**.**

**Summary:**

Superhero theme A/U: They each made different choices in life, some for better and some for worse, but fate brought them together anyway.

**.**

**PREFACE: **History of Sorts

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**.**

**Chicago, Illinois. 1982**

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**.**

"What are you gonna teach me to do today, Carl?" Twelve year old, Derek Morgan was lounging on the chair as he waited for his long time friend and mentor, Carl Buford, to come back into the room. He glanced up at the man when he heard the low thumps of shoes hitting the floorboards. Carl eyed the boy with mild curiosity, noting that Derek was especially excited this morning. "Well?" The impatience in his tone was as clear as day. It had only been a few years, since his mother's death really, since Derek discovered his special powers within himself and a couple weeks since Carl had been able to successfully persuade the boy to let him teach him how to control it. That was when the two really started to hit it off together.

Carl had been known to mentor a few children in the neighborhood before but none had ever been as gifted as Derek Morgan. Carl was sure the boy was a gift from God himself and had, had the power within him since birth. The trigger was his mother's death and from time to time Carl was lucky enough to witness the gift. He pretended to contemplate the question as he went to wash his hands, humming under his breath.

"Aw come on, Carl," Derek hissed. He got off from the chair and was looking at the man's turned back in frustration. "Are you gonna teach me kung fu? How to whip people's asses? Cuz there's this guy I know that's really been bugging me. You remember that punk named Jared, don't you?"

Carl paused and turned the water off. "I'm not going to teach you how to kill people, Derek," he said sharply.

There was a beat of silence before Derek let out a huff of anger, throwing his hands into the air. "I know you ain't. I don't wanna kill anybody anyway. I just mean whip his ass. You know – knock him around a lil!"

Carl spun to face the boy, anger written all over his face. Derek flinched at the sudden movement. He backed up a little when he saw the man's eyes. Derek may have been gifted by God, but he was still a little boy and Carl was still a large man. "Look," Carl started, trying to calm himself down. "I know you want to hurt people because they hurt you, Derek. There's nothing wrong with thinking about that from time to time but actually hurting them just to inflict pain – that's wrong and that's not why I became your mentor. Understand?" He knelt down in front of the boy and put out his hand, palm facing upward. At the boy's hesitant nod, he took hold of the boy's wrist.

"Why don't we pay respect to your mama now?" he said in a gentle voice. Derek frowned as the man stood up, pulling the boy forward. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know afterwards. Okay, dear boy?"

Derek thought for a moment, letting the man drag him out of the room to the door. "Fine," he muttered. He still wanted to cream Jared next time he saw him. He glared at the back of his mentor, whom only chuckled as he unlocked the door and opened it wide. God nothing was ever fair. But at least he got to see his mama today. As the two stepped outside, Derek was pelted by the bright and heated rays of the sun. It sent flurries of goose bumps down his skin. He blinked his eyes against the blinding daylight. "But you're paying for lunch again, right?" He was kind of hungry, he had to admit

Carl looked down at the boy in surprise, caught off-guard by the sudden question. Then his lips curved into a slow smile as he watched Derek squint against the sun. "Of course, Derek. Lunch and dinner are on me today."

**.**

**.**

**1988**

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**.**

"Carl Buford was a good man. He took care all of the kids in the neighborhood – real good care them, like they were one of his own. Especially me. He was my friend and mentor for a long time. He was like my father – my real daddy. He took me under his wings when my mama died and taught me how to stop pitying myself like the fool I was.

"For a long ass time, I wasn't sure how I could go on in life. For a long time, I woke up and thought to myself, _Derek ain't nobody gonna be missing you. You is a fool to be thinking somebody would. _Then I'd be going back to bed in my street clothes – didn't bother taking a bath or changing. I stank the whole house up for weeks and I wasn't sure how my family could put up with me. Still ain't sure now.

"But then there was Carl Buford. He came knocking and asking if I was okay, especially after what happened to my mama. I wouldn't be the cool jackass I am today. I wouldn't be the man standing here before you, talking to all you, saying these kinds of stuff you normally wouldn't be hearing coming outta my mouth. I won't lie. I wasn't sure if I could make it here today, to his funeral, to my daddy's funeral. I wasn't sure I wanted to get outta bed.

"But Carl deserves this, more than this. He made me believe in most things I forgot existed. Most importantly, he made me believe in myself again. Thank you for that, Carl. I hope you and my mama found peace already. You'll always be in my heart. Amen."

He walked back down to his seat in a chorus of applause. He hoped to God that Carl Buford heard him and was resting easy up there, wherever the man was.

**.**

**.**

**2010, Present-time**

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**.**

He had to get away. He had to get as far away from them as possible. Heart racing inside his ribcage, he turned sharply at a corner and found himself at a dead-end. Derek cursed to himself. He could hear the faint police car sirens in the background and out of the corner of his eyes, Derek saw the emergency fire escape stairs jutting out of an apartment complex building to his left. In his panic, he nearly missed it.

He ran underneath the ladder that came down, stopping only a few feet from his head. Jumping as high as he could, Derek managed to grab hold of the ends of the ladder and pull himself up. Just as he was half-way in climbing to the top of the ladder, he heard the distant click of a gun and someone shouting, "FREEZE!"

Shit. Shit. Derek sped up in his climb, scaling the stairs as rapidly as his feet could carry him. He ignored the white hot burn lacing through his right leg as he ran up and up and up. He found an open window a few minutes later and without hesitation, he threw himself in the slightly large gap. Derek hit the floor with a low thud and let out a small moan in pain as his leg collided hard with a nearby table. Damn it all, could his day get any worse?

The door next to the TV that led out of the apartment slammed open. Derek's eyes widened in fear as a man with black hair and narrowed brown eyes peered down at him. He was clutching a pistol out in front of him with both hands. "Derek Morgan, you're under arrest for the murders of two cops and three civilians."

Oh shit. That would make it worse. Derek let loose a heavy groan as the man cautiously walked over to him, handcuffs dangling on his belt. His head hit the floor before he could stop himself. He just didn't have the strength to go on. It was all over. At least for now.

Before he slipped into a state of unconsciousness, the man had already moved over to him and knelt beside him. He dropped the gun and took out the cuffs but not before touching the small of Derek's back and leaning over so he could whisper in the black man's ear. "I know what you are, Derek. You can't hide it from me." Then he heard the man pick up his gun again. "But we'll discuss everything later. For now, I can't let you try anything." And then he was hit on the back of the head with the butt of the man's gun, seeing and hearing nothing but blackness. His head dropped once again to the floor with a loud thud.

The man sighed and rose back to his feet. He wiped the sweat from his brows and put the gun back into the extra holster he kept on his left ankle. It wasn't too easy chasing down Derek Morgan. The man was pretty athletic and had it not been for his own gift, he was sure he wouldn't have known which room the man decided to hide himself in. Derek was an expert when it came to the art of hiding. He must have practiced for years. But Aaron Hotchner was also gifted and more experienced – maybe a little more so than the unconscious man before him.

There was a buzz in his pants pocket as his phone's vibration went off. He took his cell phone out and flipped it open, checking the caller ID carefully before pressing 'talk' and putting it up to his ear. "Hey, Dave. Yes, I found him." He raised an eyebrow. "No, he didn't cause much trouble. I got him right here." There was a pause. He furrowed his brows after a moment. "I'll bring him back soon, don't worry."

His friend hung up and he snapped his own phone off. Looking down grimly at the bleeding man, Aaron contemplated on what to do next. This was definitely the guy they were looking for. Aaron knelt back down and leaned over the man again. He turned him over slowly, grimacing to himself when Derek moaned from the pain. Where was he hurt? Aaron certainly didn't shoot him and he was sure he didn't hit him on the head that hard.

It didn't take very long before Aaron knew what was troubling the man. His eyes were glued to Derek's right leg, more specifically, his knee. Jutting out as painfully white as can be was the small beginnings of a bone fragment. Dear god, he was just seeing this now? How the hell could Aaron be so clueless?

Aaron's heartbeat was speeding in his chest. He wasn't sure how to help the poor man. He wasn't a doctor of any sort. He leaned over the man and started to prod his knee, not sure on how to fix it. Derek hissed out in pain as Aaron tried to push the bone back in. He had to close the wound somehow or Derek was going to lose more blood. God, what the hell happened to him? As he pressed his thumb down on the bone fragment, hoping he was doing something right, he searched for something to wrap around the knee.

Getting a desperate idea, Aaron ripped a piece of fabric from the sleeve of his own button-up dress shirt and began to wrap it in place. Before he could get the cloth all the around the man's leg, however, something miraculous happened. Aaron's breath caught sharply in his throat and he had to swallow thickly.

The large gash on Derek's leg started to heal on its own, his skin growing back quickly over the bone that had moments before stuck out painfully.

**.**

**.**

**Las Vegas, Nevada. 1990**

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**.**

Spencer was ten years old and in high school. He would be graduating in two more years, at the age of twelve, making him a genius prodigy. It should have made him ecstatic, pleased, excited, anything. But he felt nothing except a small queasiness in the pits of his stomach. He liked being a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. But while there were some perks to it, he found more downsides. He was smaller than everyone else in the school for one, the actual youngest attending high school, which made him an easy target for bullying. And another was that while he was smarter than pretty much everyone at school, that he had the ability to easily absorb information in an instant like a sponge, people were afraid to get too close to him.

Sometimes Spencer wished he wasn't so smart, that he was just a normal kid with parents that loved each other and had friends to get his back when the bullying emerged. At the age of ten, a sophomore in a Las Vegas high school, Spencer found out he was more than just intellectually gifted when he had to hide in the girl's bathroom. It was the senior prick, Russell again. It was almost always him that demanded Spencer to pay up his daily homework he said the young genius owed him.

Spencer had gotten into the teen's debt the same way most kids did – by doing absolutely nothing. He had just been sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time, looking up from his book at the wrong person. The library was the only safe haven to Spencer. Nothing bad ever happened there, not in the first two years since he entered high school at least. It was always quiet there. No one bothered with Spencer in the library because of the strict old librarian keeping a close watch from the front. Not until Brian Russell at least.

It was only last month that Russell started coming into the library on a daily basis to have a "talk" with Spencer. At first, Spencer thought nothing of it. Just another face curious about a ten year old genius prodigy. Just another guy that haven't seen a single book until now. And he seemed nice for a while, for a few weeks until he had the old lady in the palm of his hand. He made light conversation with her and Spencer. He said he liked the library, that he wanted to read all the books and old Miss Harrison nodded her head and fiddled with her fingers and said that he should meet up with young Spencer Reid over there, that the kid pretty much memorized every book word by word, that Spencer could help him with his reports if he asked kindly enough. That Spencer would more than likely be his friend because he didn't have any.

And she was right. Spencer would become his friend if he had so much as asked. But that never happened. That was never Russell's intentions. Spencer should have seen it coming. The senior wanted nothing to do with a weak little ten year old that got picked on for his brains. He just wanted Spencer to do his homework for him so he could quickly make his escape. Spencer did do it for a while. Just because the guy was taller, bigger and tougher than him.

But that was months ago. He was getting tired of doing what Russell wanted. He was getting sick of being treated like dirt. Spencer didn't go back to the library. He hid in the girl's bathroom at lunch break now. Russell never knew where to look. Usually Spencer could hide all lunch without anyone bothering to check, except maybe an occasional girl that badly needed to piss. But no one ever found Spencer, sitting on the closed toilet seat in the far end stall of the girl's bathroom.

Today was different though. He had a feeling today was different. He wasn't entirely sure why though. He did everything just the same as the previous days. It was just a feeling in the pits of his stomach. He clenched his hands tightly to either side of him as he sat as still as possible. He held his breath when he heard the faint squeaks of sneakers against the tiled floor. Then the slow creak of a door opening. _Please let it just be a girl_.

"Spencer, I know you're in here!" Spencer nearly let out a gasp. There was no mistaking that loud, obnoxious male voice. Russell. His hands tightened. Russell let out a snicker and started opening each stall. "Where are you?"

_Please don't let him find me._

Each step got louder as the senior got closer. _Don't let him open this one. Don't let him open this one. Don't let him open this one. _He felt his heart plummeting to his feet when Russell was pushing open the stall right next to his. "Come on out, Reid."

Spencer wasn't sure what happened in the next moment. He heard a loud click and the senior was opening the door to Spencer's stall. He peered inside with a sneer on his face and Spencer was sure the senior could hear the loud thumping of his heart beating in his ribcage. But then in a moment, the grin was wiped away and replaced it was the utter look of confusion. Russell took a step forward, scratching the back of his neck, looking right at Spencer…or _through_ him. As if he couldn't see that Spencer was right there, cowering on the toilet seat.

"What the hell? I thought Peter said he'd be here," Russell grumbled. He turned around and stalked out the bathroom, leaving Spencer bewildered for the first time in his life.

**.**

**.**

**Tampa, Florida. 2005**

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**.**

"Okay. Here goes nothing. You ready, PG?"

"Yeah. Anytime you are, Em-Em. Just take a deep breath and let go. You can do it."

She snorted. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one about to jump from a two-story building."

"Well it's…it's hard for me to watch."

Emily Prentiss rolled her eyes as the woman down below looked at her with frightened brown eyes. How was it that Penelope Garcia seemed more scared down there, feet planted to solid earth while Emily was up here, hands holding tightly to the edge of the window, about to jump off from a two-story house? God, this felt ridiculous. She could feel goose bumps trying to crawl over her skin.

"Here goes nothing," she muttered and took a huge gulp of air, hoping that it wasn't going to be her last. Glancing down quickly for one last look at Penelope, she let go of the ledge and leaped out the window, meeting the warm breezes that day head on.

**.**

**.**

**New York City, New York. 2010, Present-Time**

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**.**

"You can open your eyes now, JJ."

JJ's eyes snapped open at the sound of Will's voice. She let out a small gasp when she saw that they were in his apartment. It was the largest she had ever seen with two spare bedrooms down a nice-fitting hallway, a kitchen that came with its own refrigerator and freezer, a stove and a new and working dishwasher. They were in a spacious looking living room with a fireplace.

She knew Will was loaded because of his job and his parents. She also knew he already owned a couple apartments in the city but this was the first time he'd shown her one of the places and they'd been going out for a few months by now. She looked up at him and noted he was smiling at her. "So what do you think?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

JJ grinned. "I think this is beautiful."

"Good," he said breathlessly. He pulled her closer to him. "Want to get dinner tonight?"


	2. Preface II: History of Sorts

**Notes**: This is the last part of the Preface/Introduction. Now you've met some of the big main characters. There may be some similarities between scenes/characters from Heroes, but it wasn't really intentional. There is a main bad guy. Can you guess who?

**Rating, Disclaimer, Warnings:**

T; I do not own Criminal Minds; Violence, cursing, total alternate universe, grammar & spelling errors, possible OOC, POV shifts, a lot of characters, etc.

**Just Life**

**.**

**Summary:**

Superhero theme A/U: They each made different choices in life but fate brought them together anyway.

**.**

**.**

**PREFACE II: **History of Sorts

**.**

**.**

**Richmond, Virginia. 2010, Present-Time**

**.**

**.**

"Spencer, are you planning on visiting Diana this weekend?"

Spencer Reid turned to look at his mentor, Jason Gideon. The man had been much like a father to Spencer for the past ten years, since he decided to move to Virginia with him. The two had met sometime in the summer of 2000 in Spencer's hometown, by then he had already held a few PhDs and was working on his bachelors. The older man had been visiting Vegas for a personal project that he didn't enclose the full details to Spencer until just a few years ago when the man accidentally caught Spencer in his "act". Apparently, Jason was more than just a retired college professor. He had seen many other people like Spencer in his travels and had been intrigued ever since. His project included researching the DNAs and evolutions of "mutants" or "superhumans" if Spencer were to use Jason's terms.

Jason may have told him that his reason for conducting research was merely curiosity on his part, but Spencer had a suspicion there was more to it than that. Still, Jason was a very private man and Spencer respected him for it. He'd just have to wait and see where this would lead the two of them.

"Spencer?" Jason's strong voice carried through the air after a few minutes of silence. Almost immediately, Spencer snapped himself out of his thoughts. The older man was watching him in concern. He leaned over the table and sighed. "I know it's been a long week, son. I'm pretty tired myself," he said wryly.

Spencer shook his head. "Sorry, sir. I was just thinking."

"Of course, of course," Jason waved it off. He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich and grimaced. "I think it's time we get a real meal in us, don't you agree?" He casually stood up and walked over to the kitchen. He looked around the counter, trying to find his wallet and keys. Snatching them up in less than a minute, Jason hobbled his way over to the front door. "Coming, Spencer?"

Spencer nodded hurriedly and rushed over to join his mentor at the door. "Are you sure we should be going out right now?" he asked, anxiously glancing down at Jason's weak leg. He noted wearily that it was shaking slightly.

Jason waved a hand and opened the door. "It's fine, Spencer. I can manage a little trip to the car."

"You took quite a hit last time," Spencer said. His eyes shot down to the older man's leg again.

Jason only shrugged. He gripped the doorframe when he felt himself losing his balance. Gritting his teeth, he peered over his shoulder to see his wide-eyed apprentice, "Mind getting my cane for me? It should be near the table in the kitchen."

With a nod, Spencer darted off quickly to get the said item and handed it over to the man. Jason let go of the door and pressed his weight on the stick. "It'll heal. Don't worry. Now let's get some lunch."

**.**

**.**

**Tampa, Florida. 2010, Present-Time**

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**.**

It was getting dark outside when Emily got back to Penelope's apartment, the sun setting overhead. She knocked on the door two times, as was their little code to each other, and waited a few minutes for her to answer. When there was no response on the other side, Emily tried again, a tad anxious. Penelope still didn't answer. Emily quickly fished out the spare key her friend had given her three birthdays ago. She wondered what was going on. It wasn't like Penelope to not answer and Emily knew for a fact that Penelope would be staying home today. She promised the brunette woman that they'd celebrate Emily's birthday when she got back.

She inserted the key into the hole and twisted it open. The door swung wide easily. "Hey PG, you there?" she asked, making her way inside. She closed the door behind her before entering the living area. The apartment was completely dark and that unnerved Emily. She called her again, "PG, hello?"

Emily stumbled along the wall, her fingers desperately trying to find the light switch. She quickly flicked it on when finally her thumb brushed over it, allowing a sigh of relief creep out from her mouth as the darkness that had previously cascaded over the room was instantaneously vanished and in its place was the brightness that casted from the florescent lights that loom on top. Still the relief didn't last too long when Emily found that the room was unusually empty save the few couches and chairs and the large screen TV that Penelope had decorated with.

Where the hell was she? Emily wondered if Penelope had gone out without her, had forgotten that this was Emily's special day and the promise the two friends made to each other had been a big deal to the brunette woman. What if Penelope just said that so that Emily would get off her back about it? She shook her head mentally. She and Penelope had been friends for years. Emily never once doubted Penelope as a friend or person before and she wasn't going to start now. Something was wrong, had to be wrong. Penelope didn't just forget.

Emily had to look for clues, for things out of place. What if Penelope had been kidnapped? She was about to start her search, moving instinctively to the black couch on the far end right beside the TV when out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. "What," she muttered under her breath, spinning on her heels.

"Surprise, Em-Em! Happy birthday!" Penelope jumped up from behind the other couch. She grinned like no tomorrow and signaled with her hand for the others to join her. One by one, to Emily's astonishment, Penelope's friends came out from behind the same couch and some others from the kitchen. Emily noticed Penelope's boyfriend, Kevin, amongst them. He grinned sheepishly, looking slightly embarrassed and waved a little at Emily.

"It was all Pen's idea," he said weakly.

**.**

**.**

**New York City, New York. 2010 Present-Time**

**.**

**.**

"I love you, you know that, JJ?" Will planted a kiss on the back of her hand.

JJ smiled. "And I love you." She twirled her fork into the spaghetti noodles, watching as it spun around as if it were some amazing magic trick. "How did you manage to book this place?"

Will chuckled. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you already knew money isn't an issue for me," he teased.

JJ frowned. "Well yeah I know that part. But this restaurant is normally always packed. You'd have to reserve it months in advanced," she stopped, her eyes widening in realization as Will's grin spread. "Will?" she asked nervously.

Will looked at her, his eyes softening. He took her hand in his and squeezed. "I _have_ been planning this for months now," he said quietly. He rose from his chair and JJ watched as his hand went up into the front pocket on his dress shirt and took out a small box. He set it on top of the table and looked back at JJ. "JJ," he said as he slowly, gently opened the box to reveal a small, gorgeous diamond ring. JJ let out a gasp, eyes widening even further as she took in the ring. "Will you marry me?" his voice, laced with amusement, was the only thing that pulled her from her stupor.

JJ looked up at him. She was still and quiet for a minute and that must have been too long for Will because suddenly she felt him pulling on her hand, his eyes looking back at her in complete concern. "Was this too quick? Too sudden? I'm sorry; maybe today wasn't the right time. Shit. I screwed it up, didn't I?" he shut the little jewelry box closed and started to tuck it back into his pocket. "I'm sorry, JJ. I completely messed up our relationship, didn't I? I…" he faltered when JJ leaned over.

She put a finger to his lip to shush him. "It wasn't that, Will," she said, quickly recovering from her earlier shock. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to take my silence that way. I just didn't know what to say to it. I never had someone propose to me after only going out for five months," she said, grinning.

Will let out a nervous laugh. "First five and a half actually," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Right. Five and a half," JJ said.

"So is that a yes?" he asked. He sat back down, looking at the blonde haired woman.

JJ chuckled before picking up her fork again. "Let's talk about that after dinner. This is too delicious to pass up."

Chuckling back at her nervously, Will picked up his fork and followed her lead. She didn't say yes but at least she didn't leave him. _Yet_. So maybe there was still hope for the two after all.

**.**

**.**

**Richmond, Virginia. 2006**

**.**

**.**

"Are you ready, Spencer?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Alright I think it's time to meet him then."

Jason Gideon made his way out the door, quickly followed by his young apprentice, Spencer Reid. They walked to the car without saying a word. Jason was anxious to meet the man that said he'd be a tremendous help toward the retired professor's personal project. Jason had been slightly hesitant at first but with one glance at the young boy, Spencer whom seemed a mixture of excitement and nervousness, he shook off his own worry and told the man back that it would be a pleasure for him to help them out.

So now, on a sunny Wednesday, they were heading over to the man's said apartment which only really took them a twenty minute drive. It was always nice to travel with the lad, even if he sometimes couldn't stop talking. Jason supposed it was better than the radio these days. He smiled faintly as they drove into the parking area and parked the car nearest the complex.

"Did the man say what kind of power he has?" Spencer asked.

Jason shrugged. "He said he had a few that would greatly help out the project."

"A few?" Spencer furrowed his brows together. "We only met people with one before. He says he has more?"

Jason pushed the car door open and stepped out. He leaned his head back in to look at Spencer. "That's what we're here to find out, Spencer. Now come on. I don't want to keep him waiting for so long."

Spencer nodded slowly and climbed out from the passenger's seat. "If he does have more than one power, what will it mean?"

Jason hesitated for a second. He wondered that too, countless times before they arrived. "It depends on if he's willing to help us," he said carefully.

The two walked to the closest apartment room. 212. Spencer looked at his mentor. "You don't trust him, do you?" he asked. He seemed to already know the answer.

Jason shook his head, a frown on his face as they knocked gently on the door. "It doesn't matter now."

The door swung open immediately. A middle aged man with short graying hair peered out at them in mild curiosity. Jason managed a smile and stuck out his hand, "You must be George Foyet. I'm Jason Gideon. We spoke on the phone a few days ago, remember? This is my colleague, Spencer Reid."

George shook his hand, a grin spreading on his face. "I remember now. Come on in. You guys must be cold standing out there."

Spencer frowned. "Actually, it's not that cold. Last I checked it was over seventy-six degrees out."

"Nevertheless, come in anyway," George replied.

The two men stepped inside and George closed the door behind them. The man walked to the kitchen as Jason and Spencer settled on the chairs in the living area. "Would you like coffee or water?" he asked.

"Neither," Jason called.

"I'll take coffee with some sugar," Spencer said.

George grunted his approval and poured Spencer a mug of coffee. He walked back to the living room and handed the cup over to the young man. "Here," he said.

"Thank you," Spencer replied.

"It's no problem," George said, smiling down at him.

"So what is that you can do exactly, George?" Jason asked eyeing the man's back warily.

George turned to face Jason, an odd glint his eyes. "Why tell you guys when I can simply show you? Tell me something, Jason; have you ever had a magician perform real magic for you?"

**.**

**.**

**Somewhere else in Richmond, Virginia **

**.**

**.**

"I know what you're thinking, Matt, but this won't help and you know it. Get down from there and we can work everything out."

"I-I…can't. I have to do this. I gotta do this."

Aaron Hotchner sighed. He hated playing this card but it seemed no other choice. "You have a daughter, don't you, Matt?" he asked softly. The man froze. That was all Aaron needed to continue. "Her name's Stephanie and she's seven years old, Matt. She loves her daddy very much. She wants him to come home."

Matt stood rigid, looking down the balcony that shadowed a few bushes. They were at least three floors high. "She doesn't want me," he said, swallowing back the ache he felt. "She has Marie and Marie is more of a mother than I was a father."

"That's not true," Aaron said. He took a step toward the man. "You know it's not true. You did everything you could and she knows that. Come back, Matt. Come back home. You know you don't want this."

"I know I don't want this," the man moaned. "But I deserve it."

Aaron took another step toward the man. Gently, he placed his hands on Matt's shoulders. Surprised, the man jerked away, nearly falling over the rails in the process. "Matt, please…don't do this," Aaron whispered. "You don't deserve this. No one does."

Matt shook his head. "No. You don't understand. I do. I really do." He leaned back over the railing. "You don't know what I did."

But Aaron did know. "I know, Matt," he said softly. "But you can't end it this way. Once you tell her, she'll forgive you. Please don't do this to yourself. Or to her. Or to Marie." God, he hated playing the family card. It felt wrong.

Matt hesitated. He looked down at the pavement. Three floors up. If he jumped, he'd splatter all over the ground. There'd be no one saving him from this one. "I deserve it," he half-muttered to himself. Then he let go of the railing and plunged head-first to his death.

Aaron saw it in slow motion. But he heard the man's thoughts in fast-forward. It was a weird mixed sensation of nausea and self-satisfaction. Those feelings weren't his own. Aaron pulled out the walkie-talkie from his belt. "Dave," he said, "this one's on you."

There was only a moment of silence before David answered back, "On my way."

Aaron looked down. The man was still in a free-fall. Any moment and he'd be as flat as pancakes, guts and bones littering the pavement. Then in the next second, there was David, holding out his arms to catch the man. They both fell to the ground with a thud.

Aaron let out a sigh of relief as David's voice came out of the walkie-talkie again. "He's safe."

"Good. Let's go hit the bars after this," Aaron said.

Davie laughed. "Okay, boss."

Aaron leaned back against the wall. He should probably give Haley another ring tonight.


	3. Chapter I: Control

**Notes**: At first I was thinking of getting everyone to make an appearance at least once per chapter but then I saw the number of pages and how little the scroll looked and well...I didn't want to bore you guys to death so I cut some of it out for the next chapter. So if you're wondering what happened to the rest of the cast, don't worry! They'll appear in the next chapter. Can you believe this is roughly 8 pages on microsoft word? Man...

**Rating, Disclaimer, Warnings:**

T; I do not own Criminal Minds; Violence, cursing, total alternate universe, grammar & spelling errors, possible OOC, POV shifts, a lot of characters, etc.

**Just Life**

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**Summary:**

Superhero theme A/U: They each made different choices in life but fate brought them together anyway.

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**CHAPTER ONE: **CONTROL

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**Chicago, Illinois. 2010 Present-Time**

**Apartment Complex Block B, room no. 9**

Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi & Derek Morgan.

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Dave sighed and sipped casually on his glass of wine he had picked up from the table before leaning back on the couch and casting a glance over to the far side of the room. He spotted Aaron pacing back and forth rapidly, his hands clasping tightly behind him, his face screwed in tight concentration reminding Dave of a man on death row contemplating his final wish. The man seemed to sense Dave watching him, stopped, and turned to face Dave with a grim expression plastered on his normally stoic face.

Behind Aaron, Dave could make out the rough outline of their slumped over "prisoner". The man, casually dressed in dark jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt, had been left to sit in front of the closet right next to the entranceway to the kitchen and Dave noted sourly that Aaron still didn't un-cuff the man. Prisoner was definitely the right choice of word and Dave had to wonder what his friend planned on doing to the poor man behind them.

"I don't plan on doing anything to him." Aaron said with slight bitterness tinged in his voice.

Dave turned to look down at the half-empty glass in his hand. He had, ashamedly, forgotten that Aaron had the ability to quite literally get into people's heads. Carefully he set the glass back on the table and clasped his hands tightly to both knees. "What were you thinking back there, Aaron?" he asked.

"That's the thing, Dave. Isn't it? I don't know." Aaron's voice coming out in low and strained made Dave look up on reflex. The dark haired man was kneeling beside their unconscious prisoner, gazing down at him with a look Dave couldn't decipher because he'd never seen it on Aaron before now. He heard Aaron snort slightly at his thoughts. "His name's Derek Morgan."

Dave wasn't sure how to respond. "Okay." He still wasn't used to Aaron being in his head whenever he wanted. There didn't seem to be any visible trace of intrusion when the man entered, Dave had no way of knowing unless the man decided to respond to his thoughts. It unnerved Dave to realize that Aaron could be inside Dave's head all day without him knowing, like right now. It made the older man feel, for lack of better word, naked. He wondered if Aaron was inside Derek's head too – he had to at one point to get the black man's name without having to wake him to full consciousness to ask.

Aaron looked over at him, narrowed brown eyes staring into Dave's own dark depths and not for the first time, the man wondered if his friend was trying to gaze into his soul, into the deepest recesses of his mind. He bent his head down, quickly finding the top of his shoes to stare at as if all his interest had moved to there.

"Dave," it was marginally louder than a whisper and maybe that was what made Dave look up without a second thought, as if it had been programmed within him to stare at his friend when that said friend used that particular voice; soft and calm and gentle yet with a slight dash of urgency in between.

"Yes?" He didn't have to say it but nonetheless it made him feel good to do so.

"I have a confession to make." Aaron said flatly.

Dave waited patiently from the couch. He wasn't sure why he wasn't surprised by this, how he had that feeling sitting in the pits of his stomach that his friend was going to say that before he even said it was beyond him. His eyes flickered from Aaron down to the man named Derek and he wondered if it had anything to do with him. No, wait, that was wrong. He _knew_ it had everything to do with him. It was pretty obvious by this point, especially with all the staring Aaron was doing and trying not to do at the same time.

Aaron drew in a deep breath, a sharp breath – Dave noticed it all – and upon releasing it, he caught hold of Dave's eyes once more and Dave braced himself for the secret, preparing to respond in whatever way his friend needed him to. There was a heartbeat of silence, dead uncomfortable silence that made Dave want to shift and cringe under Aaron's heated stare. Then his friend drew in another breath, longer, deeper.

"I don't think I can control it anymore, Dave." There was a desperation rising out of his throat, rolling off his tongue that Dave wished more than anything he could ignore. "I tried to back there but I couldn't. I just couldn't." Then it seemed to rise into his eyes and take over those cold, hardened depths and Dave felt the urge to get up and take his friend's hands.

"What can't you control?"

"The voices." It was a flat, dead answer, as if it was so obvious that Dave shouldn't have to ask and maybe he was right, maybe Dave did know somewhere in the back of his head. "They won't leave me alone now." The response was accompanied by a tired sigh.

Dave hated to admit – would never say it out loud either – but he had always been fairly curious on the extent of Aaron's ability, how it worked and how the man could even control it. It was one of those absurd subjects, telepaths and psychics and the likes of those, which interested Dave even before Aaron came along. In fact when he met Aaron and the man showed him his impressive ability to manipulate the mind his interest deepened to borderline obsession and Dave was sure he read all the books out on psychics. Then, not too long ago, Dave discovered something about himself he never realized before.

"How exactly did you control the voices before, Aaron?" Dave tried to appear nonchalant about it but from the way Aaron simply stared at him, unmoving, he probably wasn't doing a good job hiding his interest. Awkwardly, he patted the open space on the couch next to him. "Come and sit with me and we can talk about this."

Aaron walked over and sat beside him. He spared him a glance before clasping his hands tightly on his knees, looking down into nothingness. "There's not much to discuss here," he murmured. "It's something that I can just do out of instinct, like when you move your hand or foot – you don't think, you _just_ do."

"Oh."

Aaron snorted. "Yes, 'oh'. I can normally switch off the 'voices' though – the thoughts that float in people's minds – but recently," he bit the bottom of his lip, his voice becoming slightly cagey, "recently, I can't seem to control them."

Dave shot him a worried look when he noticed by the end that Aaron's breathing became labored, strained like he had just got back from running. The dark haired man was bent over his knees, clutching at his head, rubbing desperately at his temple in a futile attempt to massage the sudden pain away. He pulled up weakly after a moment, gasping for breath, nodding his head over to his left so that Dave saw Derek struggling to wake up.

"I'm fine, Dave – so long as you get him awake. He's hurting in there," Aaron said through gritted teeth, _feeling_ Dave's unspoken worry.

Dave nodded and scrambled from the couch to rush over to the black man as he tried to come back up into world of the living. Dave tried to fight back the urge to go back to Aaron as he heard the sharp intakes of breaths from behind him followed closely by the jerky exhalation of air gasping through tightly clenched teeth. He pressed the flat of his palm gently on one of Derek's leg and his other hand went behind the man's head, lifting him up so that he was sitting upright. With his face only inches away from the black man's face, Dave could hear Derek's short, shallow gasps of breath. It was disconcerting to Dave to find the two men in such strikingly similar positions, both tightly closed eyes and breathing raggedly like their lives were being sucked out of them and Dave was vaguely reminded of standing in front of a mirror looking back at his own reflection.

"Come on," he whispered into the man's ear, his grip on him was that of steel. "Wake up, kiddo."

The man responded with a tight lipped moan and he dared to cast a glance over at his companion still clutching his head in one hand and much to Dave's shock and horror, using the other hand to claw uselessly over the left side of his face, a low moan struggling to escape his own lips. "Hurry up, Dave," he said, still closed eyed.

Dave tried not to panic as he watched as his friend continued to dig his own nails into flesh. He instead forced his gaze back on Derek and shook him roughly to wakefulness. "Kid," he hissed. He had to wake the man up before Aaron tried to gauge his own eye out in a miserable and fruitless attempt to take Derek's pain away. "Wake the hell up! Now!"

He gave the man one final good shake hoping that it would be enough when he finally let go and then Derek's eyes flew open, taking in a full breath of air like he haven't been breathing in forever, nearly gagging on it in the process because of the suddenness. Dave backed off and watched in silence as the man groggily looked around, taking in his surroundings slowly like he still wasn't comprehending everything, like he still had one foot in dream land and the other in somewhere that wasn't reality. Then his brown eyes found Dave still kneeling in front of him.

"Where am I and who are you?" Derek attempted to get up but failed to do so because his hands were still restrained from behind him.

Dave noticed the panic bubbling in Derek as the man began to struggle with the handcuffs. He shot a side-ways glance toward Aaron hoping the feeling the black man had wasn't rubbing off on him in the wrong way. He found his friend leaning his head heavily on his knees, rocking back and forth slightly. "Stop it damn it," he said in that controlled voice of his. It took a minute for Dave to full realize that Aaron was talking directly to Derek. "Calm down," he looked for the first time since Derek had tried to rise into consciousness. Aaron rose to his feet effortlessly, his face contorted in lines and creases of pure exhaustion.

Then he stumbled over to the two other men, coming to a halt by Dave, hovering over them like a mountain to a rodent, the sun to the earth. He dropped down to the floor, sitting cross-legged beside Dave and put a hand on Derek. It seemed to Dave to be gentle at first, soothing, but then he saw the tightening of the man's hand wrapping around flesh and fabric a split second later and the black man stilled in response.

"Are you okay now?" Aaron asked.

Dave thought it was a pointless question because Aaron already knew the answer, already could know the answer without having to ask out loud. Still the man always asked things, wanting to hear them from the actual person. It was a habit Aaron grew accustomed to at an early age before his ability came out to front and he just never got rid of it, a side to Aaron in which Dave had never been able to decipher despite the many years they had together as friends. In a simpler term Dave supposed it was an Aaron thing.

Derek looked between the two men. His mouth was agape, eyes narrowed in frustration. He looked ready to explode at them and Dave could hear Aaron swallowing against the tight knot in his throat, more than likely feeling that explosion ten times over. "You're asking if I'm okay when I don't know where the hell I am, when I'm tied down here with nutcases staring at me like I'm the latest exhibit in a natural history museum – you're not _fucking_ serious, are you?"

Dave watched silently as Aaron glared daggers into the huffing black man. Inwardly he cringed as he tried to imagine just how this showdown was going to play itself out.

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**Somewhere in downtown Chicago, Illinois. 2010 Present-Time**

George Foyet

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It wasn't the first time George found himself sitting in the back of a city bus taking him somewhere he didn't really care for. He looked uninterestedly out the window, narrowed eyes darting from one car to the next. Truth be told, George stopped caring for anything a long time ago. He ignored the woman sitting beside him as she cringed away from him like he carried a fatal disease. It seemed to happen a lot when he was using the strange, restless power inside of him that he pictured as a small orb sitting in the bottom of his stomach. He used it to change his appearance to match any person he had ever touched in his life so long as it was someone that he could visualize in his head.

Right now his guise was the old professor, the walker-cane in his lap. It used to be fun watching the reactions of the other people when he shifted his appearances at will but looking into the terrible disgust and outward pity in the woman's large blue eyes, George realized the appeal he found in it before had been long gone, replaced by a cold indifference. He only changed now days because too many people had seen his real face. It kept the police from hunting him down like a dog if he didn't use his true face and he remembered all too well the last time he saw the professor.

Jason Gideon was the man's name. He had actually been retired of the position when George met him with his kid apprentice, claiming back then to be a researcher of the "super humans". As far as George knew, the old man and the kid were still back in Virginia so it was safe to use his face here in Chicago.

He got up slowly as the bus rounded another corner, the jerk of the turn almost sending him spiraling back into his seat. The woman looked at him warily as he tipped his hat and touched his cane down calmly to the flat surface of the floor. "Ma'am," he greeted and made his way slowly to tug down at the cord before she could respond.

He got off the bus moments after it stopped near his apartment complex in the center of the city and made his way to the alley nearby with steadier legs than normal for an old man wielding a cane, his strides deliberate like a man with a goal. When he reached the end of it, coming close but not touching the chained fence, he felt himself start to stretch out; arms lengthening back, head jerking from one side to the other, the cane dropped with a thud that he didn't hear over the loud ringing that forced its way into his ears, beating at his brain until he was sure it was going to spontaneously combust from the inside out.

George fell to his knees, writhing under the pressure of the "change" in the shadows of the alley. If he howled out his pain he was sure no one would hear it over the loud noises of passing by cars, distant honks from people angry with how the slow traffic and blaring sirens from hurrying police and ambulances heading to their next emergency in the mildly cool evening in Chicago, Illinois. He was positive that no one would come to find him writhing in unspeakable agony as his body tried to take back his original form and George found that he really didn't care, his mind welcoming the pain as his body tried to withstand it.

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**New York City, New York. 2010 Present-Time**

**William's Apartment**

Jennifer Jareau & William LaMontagne Jr.

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"Are you okay, JJ?"

JJ wasn't sure if she was. Her thoughts kept taking her back to that moment in the restaurant, the one where she was sure Will had died in embarrassment as he took out the ring and tried to get on one knee to propose to her, where JJ haven't been sure of what to say and her boyfriend – soon to be fiancé – had immediately took it as a "no". The rest of the dinner had been for the most part quiet and awkward and the drive back had been even more so with both thinking on how they were ever going to get back to "normal" after that. She jerked up to see Will staring at her, concern flashing visibly in his eyes.

"I'm fine really. I just spaced out," she said.

Will looked at her like he didn't believe it. He sighed and sank into his chair, tapping a foot repeatedly on the floor. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he said calmly. JJ watched as the man absently scratched the back of his neck as he tried to come up with a way to put into words what he thought of their predicament. He settled for another heavy sigh, cutting through the awkward silence that had descended on them. "I should have known it was too quick for you," he muttered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. "Too quick?" she asked.

Will nodded slowly, refusing to meet her gaze. His hands were clasped firmly on his knees. "Yes – too quick." He seemed to be bracing himself visibly for inevitable rejection that awaited him.

JJ sighed and brushed a stray hair from her eyes. "I'll marry you, Will," she whispered and her boyfriend's head jerked up in surprise, "on one condition."

"I…what…? What is it, JJ?"

She didn't speak, mechanically moving over to the lamp that sat right beside him on the kitchen table. JJ pressed a finger to her lip in a wordless gesture for him to be quiet. Will instantly clamped his mouth shut and JJ turned to face the lamp. She hoped she knew what she was doing and closing her eyes, she hoped even more that Will would still want to marry her once she was done.

For a split second nothing happened as she concentrated on the lamp; she felt nothing surging through her like all those other times in the past when she was a young girl living in her parents' house, when she accidentally touched a wet finger to the wire and the electrical circuit and felt that power coursing through her arm, traveling through her veins, how she had felt like she was burning in a large fire, engulfing her entire being in its scorches, yet at the same time like she was swimming on her back in crystal clear water – her back touching the gentle surfaces of the waves that were more like bumps in a pool, how she relished and clung to that feeling, the rush of adrenaline pumping inside her, for the first time.

But then it happened. Fast. Almost too fast, too sudden – like lightning. The first touches of electricity through her fingers nearly made her jerk her hand back, the hot pain sizzling through her almost blinding her as she barely held on. JJ dimly heard Will shout over the angry hisses as electricity jumped from the lamp to her, shooting into her arm like a needle filled with poison, _drug_. In a way it was her drug. She wanted to laugh as her body flailed uselessly like a puppet, her hands clinging desperately to its puppeteer.

"JJ, let go!" She heard the scraping of the chair as Will stood up and ran behind her. He tried to touch her back but jumped away quickly in surprise as the electrical current that rushed throughout her body tried to overtake his. "Let go, JJ!" he said again, his voice coming out hoarse. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, wasn't sure that he wanted to believe that his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancé was trying to electrocute herself.

"It's okay, Will," she said breathlessly. She let go slowly, feeling absurdly refreshed, rejuvenated. "I'm okay. See?" She held up her hands. Will looked at her disbelievingly – not a mark in sight.

He turned to the lamp in a swift kind of motion. He had been positive the lamp, the decent sized antique that had just arrived for him by his mother from Virginia today, had not been plugged in. "How?" was the only thing that could manage out of the gape in his mouth as he gingerly picked up the unplugged wire. He looked back at the blonde haired woman, her lips forming a sheepish smile when she noticed him.

"I guess I have some explaining to do," JJ murmured.

Will nodded, feeling numb all over. JJ wasn't sure how to explain it really, wasn't sure she wanted to. With one glance at the dark haired man standing awkwardly behind the lamp across from her, JJ knew she made the wrong decision. The adrenaline kicking in her veins was quickly seeping out. She stumbled back, unsure on how to explain all this to Will. What was she to say to the man? Marry her even if she was a freak?

"How did you…?" he managed to get half-way through his question before his eyes widened and he clamped up.

"I'm…uh, I…" she faltered. "Do you still want to marry me?" she asked weakly instead.


End file.
